


Gambling

by stephanieh



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Clever Bilbo, Fluff and Angst, Gold Sickness, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanieh/pseuds/stephanieh
Summary: Bilbo has a plan to break Thorin's gold sickness and if it involves gambling the Arkenstone to do it, then that's that.





	

If Bilbo had been a sensible hobbit, he would never have gotten himself in to this situation. He would’ve left then and there, beforehand even, forsaking his own schemes as mad and demanded Gandalf escort him back to the Shire as soon as possible. He would have never stepped out from behind the line of kings and soldiers standing before the barricaded gates of Erebor. Unfortunately, as Bilbo had discovered recently, he wasn’t a sensible hobbit at all.

 

Thorin glared down from where he was standing before the gates, surrounded by the company. Each one of them was armed to the teeth with glittering, simmering armor and jewels. It was all Bilbo could do to keep from rolling his eyes at their showboating. As though half the people here hadn't witnessed them floating down the river in barrels not two weeks before. 

 

He managed to keep his wits about him as he skirted past the front lines into the wide gap between the enemy forces. “Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. I am willing to negotiate for the return of the Arkenstone to your…. ardent care,” Bilbo spoke out into the silence that had fallen.

 

Thorin’s face twisted into an ugly mask of rage. He stood half wreathed in the shadows of Erebor, his company lined up behind him, glittering darkly in all their newly found armor.  

 

“Negotiate? Why should I negotiate with a thief and a liar, a betrayer of friends, and enemy to Erebor?” He spat the words, and they landed like knives in Bilbo’s heart.

 

He took a breath. “Your feelings concerning me are irrelevant in the face of greater matters,” Bilbo quoted, throwing Thorin’s own words from the treasure room back in his face. “If you wish for the return of the Arkenstone, you are required to negotiate. That’s what civilized people do when they want a thing that’s in someone else’s possession.”

 

“You are counting yourself among the uncivilized then,” Thorin managed to growl from behind his clenched teeth.

 

Bilbo reddened. “I found the Arkenstone before it was in anyone’s possession and took it for my one fourteenth share, which was promised to me by contract from the start. The contract did not exclude any specific items.” His voice was pleading, but his logic was sound he knew. There was tittering among the crowd, even some of the dwarves of the company shifted from their defensive stance at the gate. Balin in particular bowed his head in acknowledgment, but when Thorin turned his glare him their direction all twelve snapped back to attention, menacing as ever.

 

“Such a thing should’ve been assumed!” Thorin shouted, thumping his armored foot against the stone. “That jewel is a treasure of my family, an irreplaceable asset to the kingdom of Erebor, a sacred symbol among --”

 

“Yes, yes, we all know of the supposed value of this _rock_ ,” Bilbo cut in. Thorin turned purple in the face and Bilbo rushed to continue. “I myself am not convinced. I would be willing to return it to you for one small favor, if you oblige.”

 

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Thorin ground out.

 

“A kiss.”

 

Even the wind seemed to quiet at that. The silence rang in Bilbo’s ears as he sucked in his breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. The company had been quite a mighty picture not a moment before, a solid line of armor and weapons before the gates. Now Bilbo half wished he could pause the moment to admire their slack jawed faces.

 

Bilbo forced himself to meet Thorin’s eyes. There was confusion in them and maybe a little hurt, as though he thought Bilbo was mocking him. Bilbo put what he could of his heart onto his face, tried to look pleading while maintaining his seriousness as a negotiator in the midst of kings. He had never wished to hurt Thorin and he tried his hardest to convey that without breaking his peace.

 

When Thorin spoke, his words cut through the silence like ice. “A kiss,” he repeated, his tone dubious. Bilbo nodded.

 

“The Arkenstone will be yours again, in payment for just one kiss.” Bilbo’s tone of confidence trailed off as he spoke, until it faded to nearly a whisper on the last word. This was a mad plan. Mad! But there was no undoing what was done. Drawing the Arkenstone out of his inner pocket and holding it to the light, Bilbo stood a bit straighter and spoke out again. “No tricks, this time. No bandying of words. Just one kiss.”

 

At the sight of the Arkenstone, Thorin’s face twisted in to that mask of covetous greed. Bilbo’s heart sank at seeing _his_ Thorin change into the monster before him yet again, but he reminded himself that it was all according to plan. Thorin seemed to truly consider the request as a king instead of the almost-lover he had once been. His eyes flicked between Bilbo and the Arkenstone he was holding as if weighing the risk.

 

“Agreed,” Thorin barked at last. Bilbo exhaled. He’d agreed- it was all going according to plan. So why did he still have the feeling of snakes writhing in his stomach? He felt as if he might throw up. That wouldn’t make for a very pleasant first kiss, now would it? Bilbo almost laughed at the thought-- their first kiss. Was it really mere days ago when he had dreamed of this moment? This was not at all like he had pictured it.

 

He realized he was still standing at the far end of the drawbridge with the Arkenstone raised in his fist. He jumped, lowering his hand hastily and clearing his throat.

 

“Well then,” his voice cracked, then cleared his throat again. “Well then, yes, let us make the trade now. No time like the present, as my father liked to say.  Yes, there’s no time like the-- _erk_!” He jumped as a long fingered hand landed on his shoulder.

 

“I will escort you, dear boy,” Gandalf smiled down at him. There was compassion in his eyes, and a fierceness that told Bilbo that he would not allow him to come to harm now, even if he thought this was a very foolhardy plan indeed. Bilbo huffed at being called a boy, but made no protest as Gandalf gave him a little push to begin the walk to where Thorin was waiting for him to approach. _A king indeed-- you’d think he’d show a little humility and meet me halfway at least,_ Bilbo huffed.

 

The distance which had separated them as speakers seemed infinitely longer now. His paces swallowed the distance between them, but the distance between their locked gazes never seemed to shorten.

 

The company shuffled slightly, as though wishing to give them their privacy, but not confident enough in knowing Thorin’s mood about it all to make a move for themselves. Thorin did not turn to direct them, he simply watched as Bilbo approached the mountain. The crowd of elves and men behind didn’t show any of the company’s albeit half-hearted desire for courtesy, but watched with open curiosity at the events unfolding before them. Having none of the background which would have allowed them to understand how long this moment had been coming, Bilbo could hardly blame them. The morning’s confrontation seemed to have taken a strange turn to even him-- and he had been the one who planned it. Though, he didn't so much plan as he did ponder. Now here he was going through with it in front of a crowd a hundred strong whose lives depended on him getting through to Thorin. He gulped.

 

Bard and Thranduil in particular seemed to object. They scowled down from atop their horses, obviously displeased at Bilbos agreement but unwilling to undignify themselves by openly objecting. Bilbo had counted on their being against advertising the division within their ranks to the enemy, and it looked as though his luck was holding true. But seeing their faces he knew he would be in for it later. He gulped.

 

Suddenly, it seemed, they had arrived to where Thorin stood. He was watching him with wary eyes shining from the shadow beneath his gleaming golden mantle. Gandalf’s hand dropped from Bilbo’s shoulder as he settled in to a space behind them. Bilbo turned to face Thorin with the Arkenstone clutched in both hands at his breast. The whole procession resembled a wedding in such a way that Bilbo almost laughed, but the sound died in his throat. Some wedding.

 

Careful to hold his gaze with as much intensity as he could manage, Bilbo stepped forward. He held the Arkenstone out toward him, and Thorin reached forward to snatch the stone like a greedy child. Bilbo let the tug carry him in, pushing himself up onto his tippy-toes until their lips met lightly. He kept one of his hands on the Arkenstone under Thorin’s grasp, but used the other to run a caressing hand over Thorin’s knuckles as they clutched the stone. At this Thorin inhaled sharply, and Bilbo used the opening to press his advantage.

 

Hobbits are simple creatures, who love simple things. It is not for a lack of appreciation for the grand things in life, but a talent for finding the grand beauty in small things. Bilbo pressed his lips harder against Thorin’s, and poured everything he knew about subtlety into that one kiss.

 

He slipped his tongue between Thorin’s parted lips, imparting him to listen. He sighed as their breaths mingled hotly, and he could feel Thorin beginning to hear. He hoped he could _make_ him hear. He recalled the brush of Thorin’s gaze over his body as he took him in for the first time, in the entryway of Bag End- a lifetime ago. _More like a grocer if you ask me_ , he rumbled with a cocky grin. Bilbo poured all his initial frustration into the kiss, nipping at Thorin’s lower lip. Thorin trembled. He thought back to defending Thorin’s unconscious form, the pale orc looming over with warg teeth snapping at his face, his knees trembling even as he stood his ground. Bilbo ran his tongue over the place he’d bitten. _Devotion_ . Fingertips brushing through the bars of a cell in the dungeons of Thranduil’s palace. _Loyalty._ Shoulders brushing on narrow pathways that should by all rights be walked in single file. _Affection._ Lingering looks over the fire as the company traded stories about their homes and families. _Camaraderie._ Thorin doing nothing to stop them when the dwarves slipped into Khuzdul words that Bilbo should never hear. _Trust._ Hands clasped together as they stood on the doorstep to Smaug’s lair in fading sunlight, each lost each other’s gaze for an interminable moment. _Love._

 

Bilbo pulled away, taking a step back even as Thorin listed after him. When Thorin opened his eyes they were clear, and looking at Bilbo with wonder. His lips were parted, as though he were about to speak.

  
But Bilbo had done his part, and was determined that he could take no more today. He wrenched his hand from Thorin’s slackened grasp and tried his best to proceed with dignity back down the path from the gate. It was considerably harder walk when his vision was hazy with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She lives! Just another fluffy thing inspired by folk music. It's not turning out as sappy as the song.... maybe we can change that by the ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOl77PduaPM .


End file.
